


With My Eyes Wide Open, I'm Dreaming

by anniegetyourplasmapistol



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-13 15:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17490893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniegetyourplasmapistol/pseuds/anniegetyourplasmapistol
Summary: Since the Second Battle at Hoover Dam, an independent New Vegas is thriving. Six is living the high life at the Tops with Swank, her partner in the casino and in his bed. Yet happiness eludes the Courier - who still can’t remember her name - as she remains shackled by her confusing feelings for the man who shot her in the head. As the rumblings of troubling rumors from the east start to reach the Strip, Six must make a decision: take the easy road, or follow her heart and fulfill her destiny?





	1. Manhattan

__

But Civic Virtue cannot destroy  
The dreams of a girl and boy --  
We'll turn Manhattan  
Into an isle of joy!

Six stubbed out her cigarette as the last strains of the old world song filtered through the Aces’ sound system and the audience broke into a smattering of applause. It was Friday night and it was starting to get busy. People were usually ready for a night of oblivious enjoyment after a week of work, or worse. You could always spot the ones who were newly arrived in town. Road weary, but eyes burning with optimism, shining brightly from tired faces. The potential prospect of winning riches in the casinos hadn’t yet been shattered by loss after loss at the tables. If they weren’t gamblers, then the promise of a couple of days of glitz and glitter was what they clung to; something to distract them from their otherwise hardscrabble lives, if only temporarily. Either way, it meant another successful weekend of business at the Tops. 

Six watched from her favorite spot, a half circle booth on a small raised platform in the corner of the room. The leather was worn and cracked, but it was still mostly comfortable, and she could see the entire club from there. She made a mental note to look into getting some new tables and chairs. The ones they had weren’t bad, but now that things were picking up steadily, the atmosphere needed to match. The house band began a dreamy instrumental number, keeping the entertainment going between acts. The notes drifted over the room, mingling with the low murmur of the crowd. 

A man in a gleaming white coat appeared at the table, holding a small tray with two drinks. He placed the sweating glasses down on the table: a whiskey sour with two maraschino cherries and a scotch and soda. Six reached for the former and smiled. “Thanks, Beau,” she said. Beau returned her smile with a small one of his own and a nod of his head before he turned back toward the bar. Lighting another cigarette, Six glanced at her watch. It was a delicate thing, a thin silver band with a mother of pearl face. A birthday gift from Swank. 

It was after 6:00. Swank would be finishing up his work shortly. He would speak with the incoming night manager and go over anything that needed going over. Then, he would stop in the cash room to get the latest numbers and make sure everything was copacetic. After he was satisfied, he would head upstairs to the club and slide into the booth across from Six. The whole thing - assuming there were no problems - took about twenty minutes.

This was their nightly routine, every day of the week except for Sunday, the one day Swank allowed himself to take a break from his managerial duties. They’d stay at the Aces for a few hours. They’d drink - sometimes too much, sometimes not. They’d talk, and watch the acts, joking it was for quality control purposes. They’d order dinner. Around midnight, they’d leave. Most times, Six would accompany Swank back to his suite. Very rarely, she would go, alone, to her own. She had to give Swank credit. He never begrudged her that room, a space of her own where she could find solitude. If he visited her there, he always knocked, and only came in if she opened the door and invited him to do so. He really was a good man. Why did he have to be such a good man?

As if on cue, Six felt a warm hand on her shoulder and a kiss placed on her temple. There was a whiff of cologne - black pepper, tobacco, vanilla - as Swank swept by and slid into the booth across from her. 

“Heya, beautiful,” he greeted her with that charming smile of his. Swank took a sip of his scotch and soda, knowing it would be there waiting for him when he arrived. “How’s it goin’?”

“Hi,” Six offered, returning his smile. “It’s goin’.” She paused. “Tommy and I auditioned a new act today. A burlesque performer. We’ve been talking about a late show forever - it’s about time we got one.” Six took a drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the side of her mouth. “She’s good, too. The boys at Gomorrah are gonna lose their shit when they hear we got her.” 

The Tops was run as a partnership. Swank dealt with the Chairmen and the day-to-day operations. Six worked on improving what they offered to make sure they could keep pulling in the crowds: entertainment, decor, food and drink. Just last week, she had finished overseeing the renovations of the Presidential and High Roller Suites, which were now billed as the most luxurious accommodations on the Strip. 

“And how was your day?”

“Ring-a-ding, as always.” Swank leaned back in the booth, throwing one arm across the back. “We’re goin’ gangbusters. People can’t get enough of this place. Up 20% from just last month.” He pulled out his own smokes and the silver-plated lighter that Six had gotten engraved with his initials and given to him upon the completion of the first month of operations in a free New Vegas. He had loved that, the way she presented it in a small blue box with a white satin ribbon. Ever since, he’d carried it around wherever he went. At night, it stayed on the bedside table, next to him. 

“We make a good team,” Six responded, lifting her glass in a mock toast before draining it. From the corner of her eye she could see Beau heading her way with a fresh one, his bright white coat sticking out in the crowd. After he turned to leave, Swank continued.

“Nah, pussycat, this is all thanks to you. What you did at the Dam - well, ain’t nobody else coulda done it. You’re the best thing to happen to New Vegas since… ever.” 

This is a conversation they have had before. Six blushed. She thinks - she knows - that he says these things because he likes the way the pink rises in her cheeks. She felt the warmth in her face and the tips of her ears and didn’t have to look up to know that her companion was grinning at her. 

“Well,” she finally replied. “It couldn’t be any other way.” The events at Hoover Dam had played out in Six’s mind over and over again. It had been less than a year: 274 days, in fact. Six counted them - the growing number was the first thought that formed in her mind in the mornings as the haze of sleep dissipated and she again became slowly conscious to the world. And 334 days since the visit to Fortification Hill, when she had done something incredibly stupid and reckless: she saved Benny Gecko. These days she counted like days since a devastating outbreak of the plague.

Fucking Benny. Six cursed the day that stupid handsome bastard came into her life and nearly took it. She spent weeks tracking him across the Mojave, her obsession almost consuming her, desperate to find the checkered-coated asshole who shot her in the head and left her for dead in a shallow grave. She didn’t know when her desperation for revenge turned into some twisted kind of affection. She thought maybe that the unhealthy obsession had something to do with it. Or, you know, the bullet in the head. That Benny had put there. 

After Benny had passed out in the afterglow of their unorthodox reunion at the Tops, snoring softly, Six grabbed her pillow and climbed on top of him once again, straddling him, the pillow hovering above his face. All she had to do was lower it and put her weight down. But she couldn’t. His absence the next morning wasn’t surprising, and the goodbye note was more a slap in the face than a promise of a future relationship.

And then she followed him to the Legion camp because she knew - she just fucking knew - that he was going to get himself caught. 

He had made a promise to her. Help him escape, and he’d disappear forever. Six hadn’t truly wanted that, but there was no time to argue with him there, his hands bound and kneeling in Caesar’s tent with everyone listening. Almost against her better judgement, Six handed him the Stealth Boy and the bobby pin. As he disappeared, the bullets started flying. In the smoke and the confusion, Benny slipped away. By the time Six had managed to get herself out of the Fort, he was long gone. 

Six was brought back to the present moment by Swank’s voice. “You know what they say? About you and me, I mean?”

“Who is ‘they?’” Six asked, bringing her focus back to the man across from her.

He waved his hand noncommittally. “They. Everyone. Anyone. That cat Mr. New Vegas on the radio, even. They say that you an’ me is a power couple.” He slapped his hand on the table, laughing, giddy. “ _We_ are the tops, babe! The tops of the Tops! We’re puttin’ New Vegas on the map bigger and better than before.” 

Six raised her eyebrows. She had heard this before, this power couple narrative. She never gave it much mind, but it was apparent that Swank had. They had been living in almost a kind of limbo for the past nine months, an unspoken agreement: Benny could walk through the door at any moment. Swank, as his right-hand man, was just temporarily watching over things until he did. When the boss returned, things would go back to the status quo. What was it he had said on the radio? “Sometimes a cat just needs room to swing.”

Both of them knew that was bullshit, but they kept up the fantasy. 

“Listen,” Swank went on, suddenly serious. “I know… I know we ain’t ever put any kinda label on us. I ain’t ever really been big into that kinda stuff.” He reached across the table and took her hands. His were soft and warm, slightly damp from the condensation on his glass. Six looked down at their hands clasped together, then back up at Swank. “I’m happy the way things are, but…” He trailed off, then huffed, frustrated. “I never been good with these kinda things.”

Oh no, Six thought. Oh no, please, please, stop talking. He didn’t.

“But... Benny ain’t comin’ back. You know that, I know that. We’re just foolin’ ourselves to pretend otherwise. I thought, at first, he might. But it’s been months. An’ I think it’s time we made this a legitimate thing. I’m the boss now, and I gotta acknowledge that, officially. And you’re my partner. And, well…” Swank reached into his breast pocket with one hand and pulled out a small box. Six closed her eyes, hoping her complete terror was masked just a little bit. She opened them as Swank opened the box. 

To her utter relief, it was a necklace. A beautiful one, with a thin silvery chain and a small sapphire pendant. 

“It’s platinum,” Swank explained, taking it out of the small velvet box. “Just like you, baby.” He stood up and moved behind her, clasping it around her neck. Six shivered as his fingers softly brushed the sensitive skin on the back of her neck, tickling her. “It ain’t a marriage proposal. I just want us to be an official thing. Y’know, a couple. A real one.” The sincerity and warmth in his voice touched Six, despite herself, and she looked up at him standing over her. She was quiet for a moment.

“Alright,” she said. 

Later that night, Six lay on her back in the bed, awake. She stared up at the ceiling. It was one she had stared at so many times before that she had memorized all the cracks in it. This room would be the next to be renovated, she thought, unable to take a break from pondering how to improve the Tops. She turned her head to look at Swank asleep next to her. He lay on his stomach, one arm under his head. His face was soft, relaxed, in the sleep of a person content with his life, unworried and unbothered. His bare shoulders and back looked unearthly shades blue and red as the neon lights from the Strip outside filtered in through the small gap in the curtains and spilled onto the bed. There were several dull scars and shiny burns from his days as a Boot Rider. Six had run her fingers over them countless times before. She supposed she had probably memorized them just as well as the cracks in the ceiling. Swank breathed softly and deeply; he never snored. 

She turned her gaze back to the ceiling and reached up to finger the pendant of the necklace still around her neck. It suddenly felt very heavy and terrifying. Glancing once more at Swank, making sure he was asleep, Six swung her legs over the mattress and slid out of the bed. She tied her robe around her waist and padded out the door, down the hall to her own suite. Inside was a small jewelry box, and inside that, a key. The weight of it hung in her pocket, and it brought her comfort. 

The hall was nearly empty, save for the two security guards stationed outside of Swank’s room at all times. Six nodded at them, and the two men averted their eyes to anywhere but her. She realized, too late, that her thin bathrobe was accentuating everything underneath, leaving little to the imagination, her long legs bare from the thigh down. She walked quickly as an act of mercy, to get out of their sight as fast as she could. 

A few more turns and a short but jolty elevator ride and Six was at her destination. She placed a hand on the outside of the door to Benny’s old suite. The wood was warped and worn. The renovations hadn’t yet reached this room, but after Swank’s declaration tonight, Six had no doubt it would be on his list. Not hers, though. She hadn’t been inside since that first, and last, night, the key in her jewelry box be damned. Before she could change her mind, she slid the key out of her pocket and into the lock. It clicked open, and Six let herself inside, closing the door quietly behind her.


	2. More Than a Kick in the Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six visits Goodsprings and catches up with an old friend.

Spring in the Mojave could be beautiful. There were a few weeks where the weather was mild, even pleasant. Warm soft breezes gently rustled whatever plant life still survived in this wasteland. This time of year made Six itch for the open road again. Memories of calm, quiet evenings under the open sky, a small fire keeping her company. But that wasn’t her life anymore. Instead, Six settled for a visit to Goodsprings, and asked Cass to meet her there. It was a morning’s travel, and the sun was rising in the sky when she set out from the Strip. The Tops could survive without her for one day. She’d be back by supper. 

A few hours later, Six pushed open the door to the Pioneer Saloon. Her eyes strained to adjust to the dim lighting after spending most of the morning in the bright sun. Sunny was cleaning her weapons at a table near the door. She looked up at the sound of it opening. After she registered who had just walked in, her face broke into a smile. 

“Six!” she exclaimed with genuine delight. She stood and wrapped the Courier in a quick one-armed hug. “What a surprise!”

Six returned the hug, happy to see her old friend. “Don’t act too surprised,” she replied with a laugh, crouching down to pet Cheyenne, who licked her face with abandon. “I’m betting dollars to doughnuts that my drink date is already here, so you must’ve had a good idea I wouldn’t be far behind.”

“I resemble that remark!” a wry voice came from the bar, and Six grinned toothily. She headed toward it and, sure enough, Cass was already posted up on a stool, a fresh drink in her hand. 

“You couldn’t wait for me?” Six asked. “I’m not even late! Tell me, at least, that it’s only your first.”

Cass shrugged. “Sure, if that’s what you wanna hear.”

Before she could stop herself, Six wrapped her arms around her friend’s shoulders from behind, resting her head on Cass’ back. “I don’t care what comes outta that mouth of yours, I’m just happy to hear your voice.”

Cass scoffed. “Jesus, Six, enough with that mushy shit.” But despite her words, Cass’ voice had a soft edge, and she leaned slightly into the hug. Six released her and plopped down on the stool to her right. Trudy appeared then, her hands on the bartop, standing herself directly in front of Six.

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal ‘daughter,’ come back to visit at last.” Trudy’s voice was serious, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Finally had enough of the big city living?”

“Hi, Trudy.” Six crossed her arms on top of the bar and leaned forward, smiling up at the kindly but no-nonsense woman in front of her. “Miss me?”

Trudy clicked her tongue. “Don’t pretend you don’t know the answer to that,” she replied, setting up a glass and pouring Six’s favorite bourbon into it. She went to put it away on the shelf, paused, then left it on the bar before bustling away to serve another customer.

“Thanks, Trude,” Six said, raising her glass to the older woman and shooting it back. The quick burn felt good as it slid down her throat, and within moments the comforting warmth spread from her belly to her cheeks. She poured herself another and turned to consider her friend.

“So,” Cass started before Six could even open her mouth. “What in the fuck did you make me schlepp all the way out to Goodsprings for?” 

“Oh, I dunno, Cass. Maybe I thought you might wanna see your friend, since it’s been awhile. I wanted to see you, anyway.”

“I suppose that’s a good enough reason.” Cass cracked a half-smile, and Six was satisfied with that. She loved her friend’s sarcastic wit, and anytime she made her smile felt like an accomplishment. 

“How are things out there?” Six asked, nodding her head toward the door. Cass had been working private security for hire. She had several high-roller clients who came from the west to Vegas, but Cass was a sucker for the underdog and often turned down big money to work for traveling merchants and other down-and-outs at a discount. Six lived vicariously through the other woman, now, who was out having all the fun.

Cass shrugged. “About what you’d expect. Lots of travel now that you’ve saved the damn world.” She paused. “I heard something the other day you might wanna know about.”

“Oh?” Six raised her eyebrows. Her heart started to race - the blood in her ears was so loud that she was sure everyone in the room could hear it. Had there been some word about Benny? 

“I was resupplying in Novac and happened to run into this other gun for hire I know. He’d just come from points east. Said he heard some… not so great things, from out that way.” Six waited, holding her breath. “Missing person kind of not so great things. And someone said they heard about a sighting of some former Legionaries setting up a camp near the border.”

Six was quiet for a moment. “Of course they’re still out there,” she started, trying to work through it logically. “They weren’t all captured. It makes sense they would stick together. Right?” She looked at Cass, her green eyes searching the face of the other woman, desperate for some reassurance. 

“Sure,” Cass replied. “It’s just rumors. And to be honest with you this guy isn’t the most reliable. I found that out the first time I slept with him… 45 seconds of the biggest disappointment of my life. Or should I say littlest disappointment?” Six couldn’t help but laugh, and Cass continued. “I just wanted you to know what I heard. But don’t worry too much about it, Six. Though…” She glanced over. “I know it’s pointless telling you that.”

The two women were silent for a moment, content to be in each other’s company. A Dean Martin song drifted out of the old radio that Six had repaired, what seemed like, a lifetime ago. The sounds of Sunny’s weapon cleaning, Cheyenne’s soft panting, the gentle clinking of glass as Trudy served customers and washed empty used glasses, and the noise of the outside that came in through the open window made a pleasing soundtrack. Six looked around the bar. Despite the boom in travelers and trade since the Battle of Hoover Dam, it was the same place, well-worn and comforting. She pushed Cass’ rumors out of her mind for the moment. She could worry later. 

Though Six hadn’t spent that much time here, it was like her home. This community of strangers had saved her. Doc Mitchell did the impossible: pulled a bullet out of her head and patched her up as best he could - which was pretty damn good. The scar that bisected her left eyebrow and disappeared up into her hairline was the only physical reminder that she had been mostly dead. When it came time to help defend Goodsprings from the Powder Gangers, there wasn’t even an option. Six knew she’d help. She could have left, it wasn’t her problem. But it felt like her problem. Ever since, Goodsprings was her home, no matter where she actually lived. 

“How are things on the Strip?” Cass finally asked, pouring herself another drink.

“Haven’t been better,” Six replied. “We finally reprogrammed some of the Securitrons to serve as the Welcome Wagon. Some still patrol, most are in storage.” That had been her idea. Gone were the days of credit checks and passports and terrifying robot war machines guarding the entrance to the Strip. She even managed to get Victor’s programming back, and made him the official mascot of New Vegas. He loved it, “howdy partner”-ing all over the place. “You know,” she continued. “You could come see for yourself. There’s always a room for you at The Tops.”

Cass shrugged. “Maybe.” Six knew Cass hadn’t gone near New Vegas since the whole business with Crimson Caravan and the Van Graffs. Even though things were different now - and Alice McLafferty and the Van Graffs were long gone - Six wouldn’t push her friend. If she did come, it would be in her own time and on her own terms. “How’s… what the fuck’s his name? Swag?”

Six snorted into her glass, nearly spilling her drink. “Swank,” she corrected, still laughing. “And I know you know that.” A pause. “He’s fine.”

“Just fine?” Cass raised her eyebrows. 

“He… we… I think we might have turned a corner. Or crossed a line? I don’t know.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Cass asked. Six could see Cass surreptitiously glance at her left hand, looking, she expected, for a ring.

“Well, for one thing, he finally acknowledged officially that Benny wasn’t gonna be back to The Tops,” Six explained. “Then he gave this… speech… about how everyone calls us the power couple of New Vegas.”

“Yeah,” Cass interrupted. “I heard that on the radio, too. I’m surprised they haven’t come up with some stupid celebrity nickname for you yet. ‘Swix.’ Or ‘Sink.’ Nevermind. I know why.” 

Six rolled her eyes. “Anyway. He wanted to be official. Not engaged or whatever - not yet, anyway. And then he gave me this.” She pulled down the collar of her shirt and lifted the chain of the necklace so that the pendant swung, glittering even in the dim light inside the saloon. 

“Damn,” Cass said, leaning in and pawing the pendant to get a closer look. “I’m surprised you walked out of the Strip wearing something like that. Someone’d probably kill you for it.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Six responded, shoving the necklace back under her shirt. 

“And you said yes, I’m assuming.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“What was I gonna say?” Six asked. “That I’ve been sharing his company and his bed for months but I don’t actually want to be with him?” Six weighed her next words, buying time by pouring herself another drink and taking a sip. “That, uh, that I’m hoping… that Benny…” She trailed off.

Cass was quiet for a moment, considering her drink. Six could feel her move, turning in her stool to look directly at her.

“Do you love him?” 

“Who? Swank? I mean --”

Cass cut her off. “The fact that you had to ask me who I meant means you know exactly who the fuck I’m talking about.” Six appreciated her no bullshit approach, most of the time. She knew she’d be grateful for this tough love later. But right now, in the middle of it, Six wanted to deflect, to distract, to get away from her friend’s bright, intelligent, piercing eyes. 

“Yes.” Almost inaudible, a whisper. Six was ashamed. How could she love a man who had tried to kill her, had nearly done it, for a piece of metal? A man who operated in the shadows and dealt in half-truths and double-crosses? A conman in a flashy suit who ran away from his problems, disappeared into the desert, leaving his rescuer to fend off his captors alone? 

Maybe that bullet really had rattled her brain more than she thought.

“I know you, Six,” Cass said, turning back around. For that, Six was grateful. But Cass still looked at her reflection in what remained of the cracked and shattered mirror that hung on the wall behind the bar. “You’re not gonna sit up in your cushy tower content to run a casino with a man you don’t mind fucking but don’t feel anything for. That’s not you.”

Six knew that Cass was right. And Cass had known what Six was going to do even before she knew herself. Silence again. The bar had gotten fuller as they sat, the afternoon slipping into evening and people coming into town, making their final pit stop before they continued on to the Strip tomorrow. 

“If you want a second gun, you know where to find me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Cass is a lot of fun to write, and I'm hoping you enjoyed my interpretation of her. Keep an eye out for some of your other favorites, making appearances in further chapters! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and checked out the story so far. It means a lot!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> This is my first piece of Fallout writing but it's one I have been thinking about for a long time. This chapter has been sitting on my computer since March 2018, and I'm looking forward to bringing you more of it.


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